


Shift

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 15:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21430615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: From time to time Zevran glances around the room, taking in the patrons and workers milling about. There's a weird taste in his mouth, as he keeps looking at Vergil casually sitting at the bar, one he tries to wash out with his drink.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Warden, Zevran Arainai/Vergil Surana
Series: Vergil Surana [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615327
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Denerim, before the Landsmeet and events with Taliesen; something keeps changing in Zevran and Vergil's arrangement and it shifts again after they meet Isabela at the Pearl.

An odd mix of relief, disappointment and annoyance stirs in his thoughts as he's watching Vergil walking away, seeking out the brothel's proprietor.

A curious part of him wished for Vergil to agree to the little excursion to Isabela's ship. The refusal was polite but firm, making it clear that his preference of bed partners isn't something that changes. At Isabela's suggestive question about “Borrowing Zevran for a friendly chat”, Vergil answered with curt “I think you should ask him what he wishes to do with his free time,” merely glancing at him, as he made his excuses to leave the conversation.

Any other time, he'd jump in for the occasion of _chatting_ with Isabela. Now, Zevran finds himself stalling. They stay for a drink and a quick game of cards with the rest of the party, before they decide what to do later. After all, he's free to do whatever he wants. Isabela cheats her way through the game, letting Alistair win few times before she strikes, an easy smile and innocent delight upon victory. Leliana seems to catch up on the hoax, but keeps her thoughts to herself, hiding and amused smile and drinking ale, accompanied by Alistair's disgruntled groans.

From time to time Zevran glances around the room, taking in the patrons and workers milling about. There's a weird taste in his mouth, as he keeps looking at Vergil casually sitting at the bar, one he tries to wash out with his drink.

As feeling his eyes on him, Vergil tilts head slightly, holding his gaze over the shoulder of person he's talking with, then the man shifts and Vergil's attention's on him. Zevran's gaze is unwavering, observing the skill as the man leans into Vergil's personal space with a tempting sway of his slim body. He narrows his eyes judging the man's seducing game, one that begs to some improvement. He'd seen people in Antiva who'd take less time and be much more subtle. He watches as Vergil allows the touch to his upper arm, lips curling in light smirk, leaning in to whisper something to the pointed ear. Something that's apparently unusual, as the man looks up at Vergil, his question answered with a nod. He shrughs and leads Vergil through the curtained doorframe, but not before Vergil leaves some coins at the bar. No doubt paying for the service.

He is pretty, Zevran thinks. Vergil choose the prettiest one out of there. Soft looking light brown curls, fair skin and eyes.

He keeps staring at the heavy brocade curtains for a moment longer.

“Second thoughts?” Isabela drawls next to him and he startles a bit, “I think this kind of threesome would be more of taste of your companion.”

Zevran looks at her and, yes, there's the little knowing mischievous glint in her dark eyes, but she won't prod. She'll tease, but won't ask directly. He isn't sure he'd know the answer himself.

“I'd like to catch up,” she purrs, “but if you have other business, I won't stop you.” He mulls it for a moment, pushing away the weird urge to follow Vergil to the hall. “No,” he clears his throat, “I'd like to catch up as well. Although, do we really need to go to the docks?” Zevran aims for a saucy grin, straining with keeping it that way. If Isabela notices his struggles, she ignores them, laughing heartily. “I can stay here a little longer, if you'll pay.” Ah, there's the catch, Zevran thinks, but his smile's more genuine now. “I think they'll let us use the room with extra purchase? Choose whoever and they could feed us grapes?”

“Are they still unaware of the potential of renting rooms for hours?”

“Sadly.”

“Then let us see, if it can be changed.”

* * *

“You really don't want to do anything?” he sounds disbelieving, sitting on a bed with both hands in his lap.

Vergil's standing near the door, looking around the cramped space. It looks clean enough for a place like this. When he doesn't answer, the man shrugs, “As long as you're paying.”

Vergil hums. “So, what do you want to do?” the man, _Florian_, asks, grey eyes appraising. He briefly wonders if the name's a fake one, and it brings a faint smirk to his lips, thinking about another Florian. He's sure _Finn_ would be outraged at his name being _tarnished_, both hating and clinging to it.

One of his bizzare quirks.

“As I said before,” he locks his eyes with Florian, “Information.” The low table catches his attention, a bottle of something dark and few empty mugs on it.

“Are there people renting space? Or were.”

Florian looks at him for a moment, seeming taken aback by the question and brings one hand up to his face, catching a strand of hair. “Well...” he starts slowly, twirling a lock, “I don't think so? All rooms are occupied regularly, day or night.”

Vergil shifts his stance, now idly examinig the contents of various small vials on the bedstand. “Nothing out of ordinary, then?” he asks, gazing at the man again, seemingly relaxed. “No one asking to send any people back, any, who are after the _'supporters'_ or somehing like that?” Vergil looks closely at Florian's face as he asks, and there it is, the not so subtle sign of recognition. He doesn't even try to mask it.

“Ah. I didn't think it's about _them._” Vergil gestures a _'go on'_, when there's a pause and the man visibly squirms. “Look, I don't want any trouble, okay?” Vergil doesn't say anything, but sighs softly, reaching for more coins from the pouch. Florian's eyes glint, when he sees the coins held loosely between Vergil's fingers, though he looks at him warily.

“Are they armed?”

Florian's biting his lip, motioning for Vergil to come closer. “There's rumor,” he starts as Vergil's close enough to be able to hear the whispered words, “That they're arl's men.” Florian nervously glances at the door, “Last room on left, end of hall,” he says, straightening the thin bedding. “Come and go, as they please, but there's always someone at the room. Sometimes they order someone, but that's all I know.” Florian's face lightens with a smile. “Never asked for me.”

Vergil looks down at the sitting man, and nods when it becomes clear there's no more information. “I see,” he mutters and reaches out his hand with coins. Florian's quick to react, the tips of Vergil's fingers brushing his palm, when he lets them fall into the freckly dotted hand. After a brief calculating look at the coins, “Are you sure you don't want anything more?” he asks in low voice, looking at Vergil through half lidded eyes. “It's not often I have a client like you.”

“Clean one?” Florian barks a laugh at Vergil's nonchalant question. It's a nice laugh, he thinks, though it lacks something. Florian's smiling playfully, “Clean, handsome and elven.”

“Is that so,” Vergil purrs, but doesn't step closer, slowly taking in the details of the cute face, dimples appearing when Florian's grin stretches. “Yes,” Vergil pauses and Florians perks a bit, “I'm sure. Still, I'm flattered.”

“By whore's words?” Florian acts coyly, masking the disappointment.

“By words of a man who works hard.”

Vergil reaches for the wine bottle, along with two cups. “You know you'll have to pay for this too?” Florian asks as Vergil hands him the mug. “I'm aware.” Vergil sits on the chair by the bed, uncorking the dusty bottle. “Now, share some more of the gossips? Do you have clients from the palace often?”

Florian's grin's impish as he takes a sip of the wine, “You have no idea.”


End file.
